Things Left Unsaid
by Cerulean.Phoenix7
Summary: It's only now that she realizes how uncertain the future is.


Things Left Unsaid

A/N: Because I had to get this out of my system, and because I'm about ready to toss the book timeline out the nearest airlock and into fluidic space.

Many thanks go to my fantastic beta, Uroboros75; without them my words would be lacking some literary polish. I thank you :)

This is set after the events of the Star Trek novels "Before Dishonor", the "Destiny" trilogy and "Full Circle".

Music: Only Time – Enya (I highly recommend listening to this track while reading this).

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing here but the plot. The characters I'm just borrowing for a little while.

* * *

><p>"<em>For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be"<em> – Lord Alfred Tennyson

* * *

><p>She still has fifteen minutes to wait and her palms are already sweating.<p>

She rubs her hands together, trying to wick away the pesky drops of perspiration while resisting the urge to rub them on her clothes. Phoebe would scold her to no end if she caught her in such an act. She does her best to be patient, yet cannot help but nervously pace about the room as if it would magically make the time pass by faster; the chronometer seems to respond by ticking off the seconds even more slowly than she would prefer. She's about to start plucking at the light polish on her nails when the doors open, yielding her sister Phoebe.

"We're all set, Kath. You ready?" she asks, her wide smile falling slightly when she sees her pacing across the room. Kathryn's eyes drift up from the floor to where her sister stands, and she almost laughs at her own silly nervousness.

"Just a few last-minute jitters I suppose," she says, strolling to the door. "It's not every day that you do something like this."

"Second thoughts?" her sister inquires, momentarily blocking the exit. Her eyes speak of the classic Janeway seriousness of which their father was known for. Kathryn feels a slight sting against her ribs at his absence on a day such as this.

"Not in the least," she replies swiftly. She's never doubted this, not for an instant; she's just not one for patience.

"Good," her sister answers, her smile returning. "I'd hate to see that champagne go to waste."

Kathryn laughs, joyfully, in a way that makes her ribcage tingle at the sensation; it's nice to laugh like this again. She and her sister chuckle for a few more moments as they proceed down the steps – both careful of their footing – and enter the long hallway that Kathryn's come to know all too well. For the past two weeks she's been here with her meticulous eyes, scanning over every minute detail. She's always been one for options, because she absolutely refuses to take 'no' for an answer, but this had been one instance where she felt that there was one option too many. She still shakes her head at the fifty-two designs for floral arrangements that she'd had to sift through; she's never known that one could arrange orchids in _that_ _many_ ways.

Her sister stops in front of two large double doors, tinted a rich shade of mocha. Phoebe turns and puts a hand half up to stop Kathryn from bursting through the doors a few moments too early.

"Slow down; you'd think there was an army on your heels!" her sister chided.

Kathryn smiles. "Well, the last time I checked, the only army that was following me around were those pesky hairdressers." She reduces her voice to a whisper and peeks over her shoulder. Nothing. "I swear, I don't know how people can debate for so long over _hair_."

Her sister purses her lips in an expression of slight mockery. "I seem to recall you saying that you went through a few hairstyles on _Voyager_."

"Phoebe, that was seven _years_!" she quips lightly. "You didn't really expect me to keep the same hairstyle for _that_ long, did you?"

Her sister smiles a little, eventually breaking out into a grin as she chuckles. "Well, I certainly didn't expect you to chop most of it off!"

Kathryn grimaces into a laugh before answering in a whisper. "I don't think you were the only one; even Tuvok raised an eyebrow when I walked onto the bridge the next day." Her hand covers her mouth as her grin threatens to split her entire face; she's so happy.

Phoebe raises her own inquisitive eyebrow. "Your security officer? What does that have to do with this?"

"He's Vulcan," she answers swiftly, and feels a slight pang at his absence as well.

Her sister's eyebrows rise significantly higher on her forehead as her eyes widen. "_Oh_," she answers, understanding finally rising to her. Phoebe turns, seeing the others lined up by the doors. Phoebe takes the head of the line, but not before setting one of her hands over Kathryn's.

"Good luck," she says softly, her eyes endearing in a sisterly fashion.

She's about to turn back to the line when she reaches for something (at which Kathryn sniggers again) and shoves them into her hands. "Can't have you forgetting these, now," Phoebe says before heading to the front of the line.

Kathryn waits back, out of sight for the moment as the others proceed forward. She forces herself not to fiddle with anything as her clothes crinkle against her body; she's anxious to move. The music in the hall is light, free of the thick organ music that she felt would make such an event too sombre.

She's waited too long for this for it to be anything but celebratory.

Finally it arrives.

Her moment.

The doors open before her and she steps out, the people on either sides of the aisle rising at attention to her; her friends, family, and others that she's come to know equally well. It isn't a huge crowd; Kathryn has never been a fan of huge, ornate ceremonies, and was very close to this being a private ceremony between a close family and friends. But Phoebe (like the sister she is) convinced her to have a little fun with it.

At the very end of the aisle where her destination lies stands Chakotay, the man she is about to marry.

The man that she will soon call her husband.

The bouquet of roses in her hands feels a little heavier than she first thought, and a sudden lightness enters her body, threading through her veins. She takes a breath and steps forward, the soft fabric of her dress moving with her.

She's kept things simple in terms of the dress: the traditional white in a classic, strapless style with an empire waist. Her hair, grown out through her new years on Earth, floats over the curves of her shoulders. She wears no veil; she knows that there's no need for one. Chakotay has come to know all the faces of her being, her mind, her spirit; she has nothing to hide from him. Her neck is bare, free of any indication of rank. They are no longer Captain and Commander; they are simply Kathryn and Chakotay.

She takes her time walking down the aisle, trying to take the moment for what it is but not wanting to waste a second of it. At the front she sees Phoebe, her maid of honor, standing by Seven and B'Elanna. On Chakotay's side stand Tom and the Doctor, partners to their own respective people. In the crowd she spots Harry Kim, his arm nestled around the shoulder of a petite brunette; they both have grins a mile wide on their faces. In the front row is her mother, Gretchen Janeway, smiling as her daughter makes the procession towards something she'd thought of once, and only revisited now.

Of all the things that she's had to think about in the process of preparing this wedding, it was who would walk her down the aisle. Her father absent, she had no idea of who to choose. She had her family on _Voyager_ – Tom, Harry, the Doctor – but none of them really seemed to fit the bill. Tuvok, her most dear friend, was absent on a deep-space mission with the _Titan_; he'd sent his regards weeks ago, and she'd known from that letter that he would not be in attendance. She'd become a bit desperate at one point, and during a high peak of stress she'd considered asking Mark. Later, with a bit more focus (and about three cups of coffee in her system) she realized what a ridiculous notion it had been to begin with. Mark had sent his congratulations when she and Chakotay had announced their engagement, but had politely declined an invitation to the actual ceremonies.

She'd only needed to see his message of decline to understand why: whatever they had had was in the past, and this was the present; Mark wanted her to live as she chose.

So she chose to walk down the aisle alone, as she had done for seven years on _Voyager_, surrounded by the people and friends that she had grown so close to. She had always kept a thin pane of glass between all of them, even Chakotay, due to being the Captain; for she was the compass that guided the ship and kept their protocols in check, the things that she believed in. Her very principles were rooted in Starfleet, but on this day, those protocols take a sideline to something that she had thus far left in the shadows.

As she reaches the front, Chakotay smiles at her, his dimples showing against the creases on his face. His suit is crisp, almost elegant in its simplicity. The black and white are pure and give a nice contrast against his skin, only punctuated by a red rose pinned to his jacket.

They've asked an old friend, Admiral Owen Paris, to conduct the ceremony, as they know of no one else they'd rather have. They forgo most of the religious traditions; what matters to them the most is their overdue union, and the words that will finally bridge that last gap.

"We are gathered here today to join the lives of these two incredible individuals," Admiral Paris begins as Chakotay takes her hands in his. "Today, we unite the lives of Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway and Chakotay."

They've left their ranks outside these doors; here, they are only people. Owen says a few more words before he leaves them to their vows, which they've prepared on their own.

Kathryn speaks first, gently running her thumb over the skin of his hand. "When I first met you twelve years ago, I barely you knew you." She smiles slightly, recalling the moment when he'd first materialized on her bridge. He'd been unknown, a variable that she couldn't discern in the cloud of confusion surrounding their arrival in the Delta Quadrant. "I was cautious – but at the same time, curious – about the man who had kept his own people together through some of the most turbulent storms I've ever seen," she says confidently.

Chakotay remains quiet, his smile wide.

"So I slowly let you into my life, as a colleague, and as my friend," she says gently. "You were always there, as my shelter, my support, and I cannot imagine another time or place without you here by my side." She resists the urge to reach up and run a finger over his tattoo. "The truth of the matter is, I don't want to be alone anymore." The relief in Chakotay's eyes is evident. "I spent seven years fighting for everything, and I _had_ to do that alone."

She implored not only Chakotay to understand, but herself as well.

"Now that we're home, I can finally live without the restriction of those protocols and cross that final bridge in my life." She takes a breath, nervousness suddenly flooding her. "I love you, Chakotay, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

Her last words are slightly muddled between a few tears threatening her eyes, but she lets them fall because she has no need to hide such things here.

Chakotay places his one hand over hers a little more, soothing her skin as she steadies her breathing. He waits a moment, and then proceeds with his vow.

"When I first met you," he began, "I was a man driven by anger and without any clear direction of where I was going. My only purpose was survival, to keep going. Then I came aboard _Voyager_, and I found myself in the midst of a forming family, one that I was torn between joining and rejecting. But there was one person who convinced me of the potential in this new family, one who taught me that anger was not the only path available to me."

Kathryn smiles, hearing the words that speak of a thousand memories.

"So I gave these new principles a chance, and found that exploration, discovery, and the promise of something greater – a home, a family, and one of the closest friendships I've ever had – to be the most rewarding thing in my life. I've learned what exists beyond the gates of conflict and war, and that things like friendship and love are irreplaceable. You helped illuminate those parts of myself so that I could see them, and through that, we got home." She feels his hand stroke hers again, and she wonders if he's a little nervous too.

"And now that we're here, I can help you cross that bridge. I love you, Kathryn, and no matter what comes to pass I will always stand by you."

The monumental silence that follows makes Kathryn's heart pound in her chest. The air between them buzzes with anticipation as they wait for the final confirmation.

"Kathryn Elizabeth Janeway, Chakotay," Admiral Paris says. "With the power vested in me by Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, I now pronounce you _husband_ and _wife_."

At that, Chakotay leans over, cupping her face in his hand gently before bringing his lips against hers. She reciprocates, and the crowd breaks out into a joyous applause.

When they part beneath a shower of rice, Kathryn runs a finger of Chakotay's tattoo, its swirl forever etched into her memory.

* * *

><p>After a minute of solemnity, Kathryn resolves to placing the orb back upon its pedestal with a heavy sigh; she's been doing that a lot lately.<p>

Ever since Q's companion – the ever-ornery Lady Q – had taken her from the smouldering ruin of the massive Borg cube that she'd been the Queen of, she's found herself _here._

It's not the first time she's been to the Q Continuum, but the last time she was here it was a broken war zone cratered with the dead and the deserted. Now elevated to the status of a Q herself, Kathryn has the ability to view the Continuum in its true, raw form. The first time she saw it, she knew that her human mind would not have been able to comprehend it, but as a Q she knows no such limits; every ounce of knowledge is at her fingertips, her eternal curiosity finally satisfied. In a way, she misses the fact that there were things beyond her comprehension, always something to learn or to study. She knew that there were boundaries, and she took comfort in them. Now she has no boundaries, and the thought that every grain of knowledge in the universe is at her fingertips scares the hell out of her.

Q's been there through the thick of it (mostly to her annoyance, because he has absolutely no grasp of the phrase _leave me alone_) and continually tries to pester her into omnipotent glee. She appreciates his dedication, but there's a fine line between compassion and ignorance.

As a result she's erected this place for herself, a sanctuary of things that she knows through memory and omnipotence. It is not a place bound by walls, but of membranes of energy meant to be a beacon of warning for any who choose to approach her. They should know that while people in the Federation still grieve for her, she is carrying her own bundle of sorrow as well. She's always been fairly certain that the Q are not above some form of emotion, and now she knows that to be true.

She's captured moments in this sanctuary, nestled in myriad orbs that hang in the space by the power of her remembrance; so long as she wants them here, they will float for her. They are like candles upon a calm lake, silently lighting the way to paths that she's never known. She keeps them all here; a universe of pasts, presents and futures that she's viewed, lived and breathed. Each moment has been given precious care by her immortal hands, handled gently and gazed upon with that same curiosity that's driven her since childhood.

She may be omnipotent, but she also knows how to block out that foreknowledge from her mind. A few times she's regretted it, seeing _Voyager_ split into thousands of pieces by a Vidiian ship or assimilated by the Borg. Other times she's been envious, seeing herself grow old with grandchildren in the company of Mark, never having lost him.

Then there's the wedding; the moment that she has no definition for. She'd be lying if she said that it wasn't something that she's thought about. She's always known that there was something unresolved between her and Chakotay, but their final resolution came just a little too late. They had agreed to meet in Venice to sort out their final apprehensions, but her demise had beaten her to their reunion.

Instead she had been forced to watch, captive in her own body, as people were slain by her hand. She had been witness to destruction and pure, absolute chaos whilst in the clutches of the Borg consciousness. The mental claws had held her down, strapped to the walls of her own mind as the voice of the Borg Queen ravaged her memories, her mind and her body.

The fight was lost before she could even start it.

When she had finally broken through, Seven had been the one to help release her. Kathryn had snapped the Queen's control away, allowing the Endgame virus to be unleashed upon the ship, destroying it over the gleaming cities of Earth.

After a blind lead-in by Lady Q, Kathryn had found herself in the Continuum. She wasn't granted the powers of a Q immediately, but thanks to some rather audacious (if not a tad over-dramatic) arguments from Q, she was granted into the realm of omnipotence.

Her first action had been to go back to the Federation and make it known that she was safe; albeit not the same, it was alive nonetheless. But of course, the Continuum was privy to her thoughts now, and as she was unaware she didn't block them out.

They locked her in the Continuum instead. She was sentenced to remain there for the next millennium, and though Q's tried to convince her that the period would pass by in a snap, she still feels the pang of loss.

When her sentence is finally up, all the people that she loves will be gone, cast as dust into the western winds and lost to eternity's shores. So she's ventured through time instead, her mind free of any temporal barriers that would normally confound most Federation scientists. She's sifted through thousands of timelines, weaving between the threads of space as she weaves her own loom of existence. The memories that she treasures most – both her own and other versions of herself – are kept here, as close to the sanctum of her heart as she allows.

She knows that Chakotay was going to propose to her on that night in Venice, the night she never showed. The news of her death conveyed by Mark, and their future lost to the tides of time. She wonders if their wedding would have been as beautiful as the one she saw in the future, where she never died and the Borg were crippled through their return to the Alpha Quadrant.

She hasn't found the courage to venture farther and see if a child is in that future as well.

She's distracted by an intrusion, a momentary imperfection in the membrane of energy that surrounds her. She turns swiftly, knowing that there is only one person in the entire Continuum with enough gall to intrude like this. She lets out an annoyed, yet heavy sigh.

"What do you want _now_, Q?"

A disembodied voice answers her, echoing through the space. "Oh, come now, Kathy. I'm only ever looking out for your best interests."

She scoffs. "Well, forgive me if I don't entirely believe that _your_ interests are all that pure."

A quick flash, lasting not even a second, appears next to her before yielding Q. He looks disgruntled, and by the tension in his shoulders she can tell that it's only the tip of the iceberg.

"Something troubling you, Q?"

He crosses his arms. "As a matter of fact, yes. You've been cooped up in this little _museum_ of yours for ages. Frankly, I don't understand what you find so fascinating about all these little snippets; it's like picking up little bits of star dust, hanging them up and trying to qualify them as one of those primitive forms of 'art' that humans are always so captivated by."

She's mildly hurt by his rudeness, but tries to resist the urge to feed his desire for attention. His dangerous spontaneity is fed out of boredom, but boredom is also what chases him away.

"I'm not interested in hearing your biased criticisms, Q," she says. "So if you're just here to taunt me, then leave." She then turns away, venturing back into the plethora of orbs that she's collected. Q naturally follows her, flicking orbs out of his way as if they were flies. She carefully rearranges them, tempted to send of bolt of lightning crackling through his side. She's almost at one of the boundaries when she stops.

"In all seriousness, Kathy, why do you burden yourself with moments of such a primitive life? You've been granted the one thing that no other human has: _omnipotence_. All of your desires, curiosities; all the mysteries of the universe have answers that are within your reach. There is nothing that you cannot do as a Q, so why are you squabbling away such power in _here_?"

She turns, her expression downcast, and crosses her arms. "Did you ever consider the possibility that maybe I didn't _want_ to be a Q?" she says, and she nearly smiles when she sees a form of bewilderment pass over Q's face. The expression is only momentary, and he quickly returns to seriousness.

"Regardless of your human desires, Kathy, you're one of us now. I think you'll eventually see that this decision was in your favor."

She's a little uncertain of _what_ he's actually talking about; the Q have made it clear about their decision to allow her into their ranks, but they have yet to divulge the reason _why_. After the events that she's witnessed transpire in her absence, she's become infuriated by their leash on her. She's omnipotent and yet people still try to lead her about like a dog.

"That _what_ is in my favor, Q?" she says, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "I've been sealed inside the Continuum, even though I've been integrated into your legion of beings. I've been forced to watch my friends and family suffer at my memorial, watch how it ripped some of them apart and destroyed friendships." Her voice is boiling with fury now, and she's only just getting started.

"And then," she says, her voice unwavering in her conviction, "I had to watch sixty-three _billion_ people in the Federation die by the hands of an enemy that should have been destroyed long ago." Her hands are curling into fists, her veins ripe with anger. "I am supposed to be a peacekeeper of the galaxy, given _carte blanche_ in my dealings and yet I am forced to watch the slaughter of Federation citizens. _Why?_"

He's silent for the first few moments, and she's actually glad that she's managed to render him speechless for once. "Kathy," he says. "We may be peace-keepers of sorts, meant to keep the cosmic scales from tipping out of balance, but we are not without our own set of 'protocols', as you might put it."

"And these regulations of yours include the allowance of mass murder?" She snaps, her voice cracking the air; a few of the orbs nearby tremble in response.

He reaches out for her, settling a hand on her tense shoulders; she almost brushes him away. "We may have free reign in _how_ we do things, but we cannot simply pick events at our choosing to correct. The universe is not our sandbox to play in, Kathy. We are merely guests."

She's starting to understand it now, and the picture morphing into focus in her mind is frightening at best. "You mean to say that... you're not in control here?" she says, her eyes focused on Q's expression.

He throws his hands in the air – similar to how she did only moments ago – before speaking. "I said nothing of the sort. The fact is that I have no say in this, Kathy, and you're just going to have to accept that. My hands are tied in this matter."

She's close to fuming now; she's been kept in the dark for the past year and she's had about enough of it. "If you expect me to believe that there's nothing to be done for the people back home – the people that _I_ care about – then you're looking in the wrong place Q, because I will _never_ accept such conditions." And she shoves past him, shuffling a few of her globes out of the way in the process. As she walks, they clear a path for her, dividing before her like water scattered by stone.

"It's Chakotay, isn't it?" Q's voice resonates through the space, echoing off the myriad orbs like a ricocheting bullet. Her feet stop, body frozen and stiff as she takes a breath; she's not ready for this.

"What?" she asks, her back still turned to Q.

"Oh, don't play coy with me! The fellow with the tattoo, the one who's in that little wedding future you were visiting just before I arrived."

She whips back to face him, a devilish smile curling over his lips. "I thought so," he adds.

"That is none of your concern," she hisses, approaching Q. In moments, she stood face-to-face with him. "I have tried to be... _understanding_ of these things; but what I will _not_ stand for is the invasion of my privacy. If you want to pry, Q, then do it with someone else, because I assure you that _I_ will not stand for it." She moves to leave again, but Q grabs her arm before she can even take a step.

He whips her back to face him again, and his expression seems to be a poor attempt at compassion; he's even making an attempt at puppy eyes. "I wasn't trying to pry, but I knew that there had to be a reason behind your desire for solitude. That's when I saw these moments that you had been saving, and the one that you've been drawn to the most is that one where you and Chuckles are joined in the overrated sanctity of matrimony."

She scoffs and pushes him away, for of all conscious beings, he is the absolute _last _one that she wants to discuss this with. She rushes off again, and Q calls after her. "You have no secrets here, Kathy!" Then there's silence.

Of course, with the Q, such bliss is only temporary, and a quick flash in front of her as she struts away reveals his form once again. "Besides, I think it's rather obvious what your problem is. You're _lonely_," he says smugly, almost congratulating himself at her expense.

She decides quickly that maybe a little admission will give Q what he wants and get him out of her hair for the time being; she's really getting sick of these childish mind games anyways.

"You're right, I _am_ lonely. I'm away from all the people that I have ever known." Q's face breaks into a smile. "But that doesn't mean that I need constant visits from _you_," she adds sharply.

Q frowns and crosses his arms with a shrug. "I was merely trying to cheer you up; you've been gloomier than a Rigelian Sea Cucumber as of late. I'm simply suggesting that if loneliness is your problem, then there are plenty of options available to you."

"Such as?" she answers, already knowing where this going.

"_Me_," he says with a Cheshire grin, and she quirks an annoyed eyebrow at him when one of his hands grazes a dark blue sphere nearby.

"_No_," she answers flatly. "We have been through this before; I am _not_ interested in you and never will be."

"Well, it's your loss, then," he says as she once again pushes past him and moves to a select group of cerulean globes that she keeps tucked away from the rest. These are the memories of her family: her father before his demise on Tau Ceti Prime, her sister rousing her out of her bout of grief and her mother, Gretchen, with the kindness that only a few possess. There's also an orb with Mark's proposal, drifting gently in its orbit with the rest.

There's one missing.

She's not concerned; she's had it tucked away in the pocket of her robes – which are a plush violet – always within her reach. It's of the night that she and Chakotay finally crossed that final bridge, any barriers between them dissolved for the rest of their lives. It's one of the few moments that she has of them together in her own timeline, scattered few and far between the other shards of her life that she's seen. She reaches into her pocket and curls her fingers over the glassy surface of the sphere holding that moment close. She's looked at it enough to know it's a gentle blue, calm and serene; a representation of what their world had become. She feels the weight against her palm, the smooth glass cool against the skin of her hand; she's always careful when she reaches for it, as she fears that such a delicate moment will shatter if not handled gently.

"That's the forty-seventh time you've checked for it today," a voice declares, and it takes her a moment to realize that Q is still there.

"What?" she asks, not bothering to turn; she's grown tired of this trickery.

"The sphere in your pocket," Q repeats nonchalantly. "You've been checking on it all day."

"So what if I have?" she says, her own voice verging on stoic. "I thought that the Q didn't track time in the same menial manner as humans do."

"You're a Q, and yet you still insist on measuring time in a limited fashion," Q quips, and Kathryn has no choice but to admit defeat. She's been doing her best to make the adjustment easy for herself, acclimating herself to her surroundings as slowly as possible. She understands that time for the Q does not operate in the same manner as she is used to. Where time is the flow of numbers upon a chronometer for people in the Federation, it is wound and spindled upon threads and needles for the Q. For them, time is just another ocean to navigate.

"It's my choice, Q. Just like everything else here. It is my _choice_ to be here among my memories." She turns away from her memories, shrugging in exasperation. "I simply wish that you would respect and understand that."

Q steps forward, this time mindful of the memories suspended in their peaceful equilibrium. He stops a few feet from Kathryn and clasps his hands behind his back; he looks a little shamed, but she's not ready to confirm such an allegation quite yet.

"I know that this has been difficult for you," Q admits. "But try and see the good of it; you'll have opportunities that most can only ever _dream _of. Hiding away like this won't do you any favours. There are members of the Continuum who are curious as to when you'll make another appearance."

Now Kathryn's the one that's _curious_. "Really? Would one of them happen to be your charming companion looking for recompense after saving me from the dreaded 'mortal oblivion'?"

"You know she doesn't always mean everything she says, Kathy; only most of it in a less cynical manner," Q says cheerfully.

Kathryn crosses her arms with a short huff. "And that's supposed to make me feel better about this?"

Q frowns. "Truth be told, Junior misses you. He's been asking when you're going to be free to venture about the galaxy, as it were. He wants to show you the star clusters in the Gorzon sector, they're going to be quite beautiful in the next... oh, _millennium_ or so."

Kathryn looks at Q, slightly puzzled and a little charmed (though she'll never admit to it). She's never been opposed to Q's son, after his time on _Voyager_ he actually seemed to learn a few redeeming qualities. Yet she hasn't seen much of him since she arrived in the Continuum.

"If your son wants to visit, then why doesn't he?" she asks, rather interested to see what Q's answer will be to _that._ "I have no problem with him visiting, so why doesn't he?"

Q leans forward a little, the smugness replaced with a touch of humility. "It appears that some of your human decency rubbed off on him. He told me that he could sense this little energy booth of yours from twelve parsecs away and just turned right the other way."

She chuckles, apparently something other than human respect rubbed off on the boy. "I didn't realize that I could be quite so… intimidating," she gently admits.

Q pats her on the shoulder. "It's not one of your greatest faults," he says before breaking away. "I'll be sure to tell Junior to stop by!"

She's smiling, then realizes exactly _what_ Q said. "Q! What do you mean by _faults_?"

But he's already gone, vanished into a puff of sparkling particles, and she receives no answer. The Q have always been vague about their means, but in some things they can be downright riddling. She despises ambiguity in her life, and this lack of clarity certainly doesn't aid to diminish her annoyance. Being quartered off in the Continuum also brings about a cap on her knowledge, as she has yet to learn about the inner workings of the Continuum; she suspects that when she does she'll learn the reason _why_ they decided to save her.

In the meantime, she'll tend to her memories, these trinkets of old and jewels of what is yet to come. The thousand natural shocks of this Q'd existence no longer bother her to such an extreme as they once did. Her right hand ventures back into the pocket of her robe, gently gripping the small sphere she's kept there for ages. She pulls it out and holds it at eye level to see. Its contents swirl in a serene current, the cerulean and aqua mixed in a perfect harmony among the few splashes of fuchsia. In a sense, it almost resembles a galaxy, colors bending and blending while thousands of minute spots glimmer in the distance. To Kathryn Janeway, it is the eye to a moment that she lived once and will never forget; it is the taste of something that she was eventually denied, but will always long for.

She cradles the precious moment in her hands, watching the memory swirl into focus and then out again; she catches Chakotay's face a few times before letting it float back into darkness. She walks over to the small group of orbs that are separate from the others, the memories and moments most precious to her, and wills this last one to join them. It floats up from her hands, guided by her courage and love amongst these portals of time to join them in remembrance. It finally settles next to a large sphere, filled with deep emeralds and azures, the one that houses her time on _Voyager_. The smaller sphere rests there for a moment, and then begins to circle the larger one in a gentle circle, accompanying it in whatever journey that lies ahead for it.

She thinks that it's fitting that it would stop there, next to the memories of where they first met, fought and grew close. It is also where they became part of a family, one that she misses so very dearly. She thinks of her family from _Voyager_ and then of her sister, her mother and all the others that she's left behind.

"I love you all," she whispers and brings her hands together, joining her fingers over them. She holds her hands beneath her chin for a moment and then settles her chin upon them; for a moment, she is silent.

It is only when that moment passes that Kathryn Janeway lets out a sigh that lasts only a moment in her time, and an eternity in another.

* * *

><p><em>Fin<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are love.<strong>


End file.
